“Baby, I want to feel you in every touch. Go slower, please,” she found her voice, croaky from raving desire.
“Shh! I will, love,” replied a voice, soaked in passion. Dutifully bent, stroking spots to wet holes.
She had her legs thrown wide apart. Her undies laid accusingly on a tree bark as they stared in wierd expectation.
The undies, had seen it all before now. This was a familiar sight. They had now become the only witnesses to this unholy union.
They tried to speak, but who will listen. Only the tree bark seemed to pay heed, this time.
The last time, they hung unto a twig and dared to share their babbling gossip, the twig dropped them as quickly as the wind appeared.
So today, they and the tree bark stood on, and watched what dimension it would take today. All of nature was looked on silently yet with protest in their eyes. The wind blew in protest; the insects chirped to register their dismay. The birds threatened droplets. Still she laid there.
Heads shot upwards, arms gripping shoulders in battle formation, eyes googling; the thrusts came and mechanical too. No one knew how hard. Only the leaves beneath knew how hard.
She gasped and writhed in ecstasy mixed with pleasurable pain. The moans accentuated her passion. She kicked and clung like glue, dexterously.
The thrusts had to penetrate deeper. More precise. The hammer occasionally missed the nail. But it had to hit it, lest she hung in that borderline between ecstasy and pain for too long.
So she adjusted and readjusted to suit each thrust. It was a sort of division of labor. Both had to do their jobs well. And they did.
The moans took on different sounds.
“Ahhhh, baby, I’m cumming. Please, baby don’t stop. I’m cumming, please don’t st–ooop, ahhhh, ooooh, bab…y. Oh my…” her voice trailed off as she orgasmed, with her laps giving a deafening thud.
She lay still like a snake that had swallowed a prey to big. All the world around looked different—beautiful.
She smiled at nature, taking in gradually, the waving leaves of the cassava plant that seemed to join in, in her joy. She saw beauty in the eyes of an owl that watched from a tree overhead.
In a rare moment of inspiration, she sprang up, becoming conscious of her environment; it was only a cassava farm.
Bare. She felt tinged with shame. She felt tossed like an umbrella that had been turned inside-out by the raving wind. Exposed.
“It’s okay, love,” was all the consolation she got.
“Come here,” came the voice again, this time with a trace of triumph.
For the first time she smiled back at this great teacher, who had forgone so much knowledge to her in such a short period. She could only see someone she loved. A love she couldn’t explain. But felt. Right or wrong, she didn’t care.
“Just promise me, no one will ever taste of you, but me,” the voice continued, with a mischievous grin.
“You do know that I love you, right? I don’t know how not to. How could I not? You make me feel things, you do things to me that no one can ever do. I love you,” she replied ruefully, in that ‘you-are-what-I-want-but-can’t-have’ sort of look.
Pockets of tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to dispatch, caught before they escaped. She found herself in a warm embrace that spoke of
the love these hearts shared.
It was forbidden love. Yet true. It didn’t seem right. Yet it couldn’t be said to be Wrong. They were in love. Susan and Juliet.
Susan opened the creaky door to the world of love for me. Love was what it is, as I had come to believe it through her eyes that dug wells of unexplained desires in me, her touch, that sent pockets of longing through my skin.
She did things to me. Things only she could do; a ritual only she was ordained for. I craved every moment with her. For her, it was more than a longing. She protected with jealousy, provided with a sense of duty, made love like a mad dog.
The things she did with her tongue, it was inexplicably liberating. I had grown to believe I was inviolable, so long as a boy never got a mile close to me. They were plagues, to be avoided at all cost.
So,I did avoid them. But couldn’t stand this one thing—Susan. She had me where she wanted me—madly in love with her.
It was love, I could swear it. What else could it be? Gay love? It was love all the same. I had my love life safely tucked away, hidden from plain sight.
No one or nothing else caught my eyes, or mattered.
Then this guy came. Counsel.
He slipped in, through the tiny spaces in between my fingers; once we held hands on our way home, after a work out one evening. And he managed to clutch a ticket to my palace, piece of my heart. A piece no one ever found, much less own till he came.
I couldn’t get my mind off him. He was roughishly handsome, with a sparkle in his eyes that set my tighs itching, yet I had seen cuteness like his before on campus.
He just had me. I didn’t know how. Didn’t care to either.
We had met at a writers’ conference on campus. He had this dimple when he smiled. A rare sight, I hardly saw in boys. I scarcely noticed them even.
Counsel had this expansive gesture when he spoke, like he was going to give me all the world if I let him. He was doubly handsome, smart, intelligent and seemed to care about very little things that I didn’t know I needed to care for—like when he would text in between calls to say, “I want to help you love life, please let me.” He was every girl’s spec. If he was a playboy, at any rate, he hardly looked it.
How I fell for a boy was a question I couldn’t answer myself. I didn’t know I had it in me, to feel something this alien. He had tons of jokes retold to amuse me specifically, each time I stole away from Susan, tempting fate with my own purpose.
He was my new purpose.
It wasn’t that I had fallen out of love with Susan. It was that feeling of sipping water for too long, and a can of coke comes along; and a sip gets you hooked that you don’t ever want to let go of its sweet, refreshing taste.
Less you forget what it tastes like. It’s like being under water for too long, but suddenly emerges to the surface just to catch a whiff of fresh air.
This was my situation with him.
Counsel had revivified an inner revolt. It only took months before it found expression.
Months later, Susan died of a protracted ailment: cervical cancer. My world crumbled, albeit the old world. Her death buried me.
I couldn’t dig up my remains afterwards. I sought strength and succour in the waiting arms of Counsel.
He came around, cooked, cleaned up after me, cared and comforted. He came to understand what I had with Susan. He loved me still. It beat me still.
“How could you?” I often asked, and his only reply was:
“How could I not, when you are all I was made to love? No one else. No one could ever spot that spot, until I met you. It came alive after I met you.”
It all became clear as drinking water.
My life had being decidedly out of place. Blades of tears cut through my eyes. They stung me to reality.
Nature’s lesson: my sin allowed me no cover; for the first time in a very long while, I felt exposed.
I clung to his chest, in a warm embrace—my Counsel.
He was my new beginning.